


I Think of You

by BlackKite7



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Fluff, M/M, Oikawa and Kuroo are co-workers and roommates who decide to talk to their crushes, also includes side matsuhana because im weak sorry not sorry, also potential smut?? haven't decided yet, but with a twist: the twist being that iwaizumi is the florist, mostly going to be fluff and awkward flirting and just as awkward dates, switching pov's, tags will be updated with new chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 09:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6368872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackKite7/pseuds/BlackKite7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some time, Oikawa has admired the florist down the street from the tattoo parlour where he works. It's not until a friend encourages him to get a bit gutsy that he takes the first step towards getting to know him.</p><p>At the same time, Kuroo tries to muster the courage to talk to his manager - Akaashi - about something other than work, with mixed results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think of You

**Author's Note:**

> Ah yes, another flowershop/tattoo parlour au. Why? Because I lack any and all restraint. Mostly inspired by this post: http://daichis-thighs.tumblr.com/post/141599696859/all-i-want-in-life-is-an-iwaoi-tattooflower-shop because florist iwa has great potential and I haven't stopped thinking about it for like? Two or three days. So yeah, here we are.
> 
> Will also include kuroaka throughout in sections or in separate chapters depending on how things pan out.
> 
> Enjoy! c:

The soft sound of music playing overhead throughout the tattoo parlour generated a soothing atmosphere to work to. The slow rhythmic beats of heavy bass vibrated through the floors ever so slightly and Oikawa can’t help but hum under his breath as he rubbed the wrist of a client. He wiped away the excess ink and gloved hands set about continuing the design. Stray strands of chestnut brown fell from the headband keeping his hair out of his eyes as he worked, but it wasn’t enough to bother him in the moment.

He shared light and pointless conversation with his client as he etched the design of a small geometric deer skull on the underside of the wrist, brows furrowed and tongue poking out against his lip occasionally as he listened to them speak. It was so easy for him to get lost in thought as he worked, and frequently apologised when he had zoned out and hadn’t replied to something they had said.

The tattoo took over an hour, the entire time spent meticulously inking small details onto the skull and adding the embellishments that had been designed the previous week. After ensuring his client was satisfied with his handiwork, Oikawa escorted them through the parlour to the small administrative area at the front of the store and waved them goodbye. A soft sigh parted his lips as he tugged at the headband, plucking it from his crown and allowing his hair to bounce down as he shook his head slightly.

“You’re working awfully hard today, aren’t you?” a voice at the counter beside him chimed softly. “Is it Thursday already?”

With a sharper look in his eyes, Oikawa turned with a smirk to face the voice’s owner. Sitting slouched and with one leg tucked under his body, twisting brightly coloured twine between his fingers into various shapes, was Kuroo. The thin patterned mask he wore was tugged down to cover his chin and most of his jaw with the strings hooked over his ears. A pair of golden eyes blinked up at him under a mop of dishevelled black hair and Oikawa’s smirk grew wider.

“As a matter of fact, it is, so I’ll be taking my break early.” With a snap of plastic, Oikawa peeled the latex gloves off his hands and flicked them at Kuroo, who jolted in his seat from the suddenness of it. “Don’t let Aka-chan catch you slacking off again~”

With a huff and a roll of his eyes, Kuroo smiled to himself as Oikawa walked back through the parlour to the back rooms and settled himself comfortably back in his seat.

It took Oikawa all of a few short seconds to find his wallet in his bag and remove a sketch book from it, as well as a few drawing utensils to take him. He quickly back tracked after a moment, hastily reaching for his glasses case before being ready to go. He sauntered back through the tattoo parlour, waving to Kuroo on his way out and promptly flipping him the bird when Kuroo told him to get gutsy as he walked out the door.

Stopping on the quiet street to inhale the crisp spring air, Oikawa shifted on his heels after a moment and headed towards the café down the street. It was at the other end of the block, less than five minutes away, and the shaded outdoor area framing the shop windows had become a favoured spot to sit and spend his lunch breaks.

Looking through the window, he waved to a familiar fiend behind the counter flirting brazenly with a customer. A pair of grey eyes flicked towards him, acknowledging the way Oikawa lifted two digits into a peace sign, a gesture that was returned before going back to his ‘ _business_.’

Knowing his regular order would be brought out to him, Oikawa dropped into the stylish cast iron chair he had unofficially claimed and began to flip through his sketchbook under the shade of the shop’s veranda drapery.

The pages flicked by quickly: various designs of animals, ordinary household items and strangers he saw on public transport, and more than a few carefully sketched circles with intricate details creating the surface of a moon. It wasn’t long before the regular drawings were abruptly disturbed by a new feature, followed by another, and another. Stems of flowers and bouquets, some of which he didn’t know the name of, seen only from a distance, and parts of a body. A half sketched torso, holding an armful of flowing wisteria; part of a jaw and a toothy smile, with furrowed brows and sharp eyes he silently longed to know the colour of. Pages that were, in the beginning, dedicated to single pieces were now full of half-finished sketches and grey smudges from an eraser.

Finally finding a blank page, Oikawa crossed one leg over the other and pulled his sketchbook into his lap before settling his glasses onto the bridge of his nose. Umber brown eyes drifted upward across the street towards the flower shop he had only noticed a few weeks ago.

The store was overflowing with flowers, as always. The display racks inside housed a variety of flowers – the usual rose or tulip bouquets were abundant, but there were many other flowers that he did not recognise, but thought were pretty nonetheless. His gaze quickly found something more intriguing however.

The florist standing upright at the counter was trimming the stems of soft lavender heather, fingers deftly but cautiously cutting away what was undesirable to the customer in front of him. Oikawa’s fingers hovered above the page, frozen for a moment as he admired the man’s features. With good posture, he stood at an average height but Oikawa had seen how broad the muscles of his shoulders and chest were, albeit from a distance. Oikawa could only guess how square his jaw was, how high his cheekbones were, and he had debated about the shape of his nose at times. Even with his glasses, it was still a challenge. A tanned hand lifted to slick through the short spiked hair, ruffling it slightly as the beginnings of a warm smile spread his lips.

Oikawa hummed, content with the sight, and dropped his gaze to begin drawing what he had committed to memory. He had just finished sketching the outline of the nameless florist when the café’s door swung open, the sound of a bell rung faintly and alerted him to it, and the waiter with brightly dyed pink hair stepped out carrying a tray with a customer close at his heels.

“I should get back to class now I guess,” the customer spoke quietly, but his voice was rather deep and fitting for the imposing yet always tired expression on his face, “I’ll see you later, I guess.”

“For sure.” The waiter quickly replied as he set down a tall glass of iced coffee, the frozen cubes clinking against the glass as he placed it before Oikawa.

“Get a room, Makki-chan.” Oikawa teased with a smirk.

Hanamaki, with an ungodly speed, had a simple retort ready in an instant as he stood straight and looked back at the customer. “What do you say, Mattsun?”

“Later.” With a wink, the customer leaned in and planted a chaste kiss against Hanamaki’s lips. Oikawa blinked up at them both, watching as Hanamaki quickly leaned back in and returned the gentle kiss, uncaring how other customers stared at them.

When they parted, the only word Oikawa could think of to describe the look in their eyes was _impatient_. “Later.” Hanamaki repeated as his lover spun on his heels and began walking away. Oikawa’s gaze followed after the tanned man with a mess of curls and sighed melodramatically.

“You’re a bad influence on Mattsun,” he said quickly.

“What can I say, he’s a sucker for bad boys,” was the reply.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s a sucker for something.” Oikawa turned back with a wink that made Hanamaki release an unexpected giggle as he placed a small plate of two milk bread rolls onto the table.

As Hanamaki tucked the now empty tray under his arm, he tilted his head to look across the street and quickly spied the muscled florist carefully wrapping the clipped lavender stems into a bouquet with a keen gaze. “Oh, now that’s just not fair.”

“I know, right?” Oikawa laughed under his breath as he reached to pull off a corner piece of one of the bread rolls.

“Do you think he bench-presses troughs of cement in his free time?”

“You sound a little star struck, Makki-chan.”

“That should be my line, Mr. Spends-his-breaks-drawing-handsome-florists.”

“That’s was bad, even for you.”

“You don’t get a discount today.”

“Makki-chan!”

Hanamaki had already turned away and disappeared back into the café when Oikawa cried out indignantly. With a sigh and a pout, he slumped back into his seat and sipped at his drink. The half-finished sketch mocked him and he looked back towards the flower shop.

The florist was chatting happily with the customer now. Oikawa felt a little ball of envy twist in his gut. A handsome guy like that would, of course, be popular. He was no stranger to that kind of attention. Knowing how it felt, knowing that was what he was engaged with, made the feeling even worse.

Chewing on his lower lip, Oikawa looked down at the half-finished sketch of the stranger and, when he decided that it was yet again a poor likeness to the Adonis, quickly closed his sketchbook. He tapped his pencil against the table as he ate and stared off down the street, guessing how much of his break remained, and when he had devoured the last of his lunch he sluggishly stepped into the café to pay for his order before going back to work.

Oikawa looked through the windows of the flower shop as he left, a habit he had hadn’t yet noticed. The florist was gone now, as if an apparition of his wants and whims, and Oikawa walked back towards the tattoo parlour with the memory of that gentle, ginger smile fresh in his mind.

 

* * *

 

The hot air of the bathroom was stuffy and almost suffocating. Steam filled the air, clinging to every surface, and Oikawa sunk lower into the bath and tapped his fingers against the edge of it.

How long had it been since he first noticed the florist? A few weeks, maybe a month and a bit? He didn’t know for sure. However, he knew with absolute certainty that the handsome stranger was steadily encroaching on his thoughts.

Thoughts of tanned skin moving over taut muscles and warm smiles seen only through a windowpane intruded his otherwise calm mind at unwelcome times, and with haste, Oikawa ducked under the water of the bath for several long moments. He lay under the water for a while, eyes squeezed shut and legs crossed as he did his best to hold the thoughts at bay. He burst out when his lungs screamed for air and gasped loudly, his hands reaching up to his face to hold his warm cheeks.

How embarrassing, to have a crush on someone he didn’t know the first thing about. He didn’t even have a name he could attach to that beautiful face.

Knowing he’d be scolded if he stayed in the bathroom any longer, he hauled himself out of the bath and reached for the nearest towel. He hung the towel over his shoulders and dragged it side-to-side down his back in a fluid motion, eyes flicking to the intricate design of thin black lines and dots at his wrist. A rather simple tattoo of his star sign in minimalist style. He thought about getting it for years before finally having the skill to do it himself.

With quick movements, he hung the towel over his head and stepped into a galaxy printed boxer-briefs that had been a humorous and impromptu gift. When he left the bathroom, he was immediately met with a pair of leering eyes from across the living room.

“Well, well, someone certainly took his time.” Kuroo’s teasing tone was loud and Oikawa frowned as he glanced at his lean roommate sprawled out on the couch against the opposite wall.

“Shut up, you mooch.” Oikawa quickly replied as he rubbed the towel over his head and dried his hair. He walked towards the couch and nudged Kuroo with his knee, urging him to make room.

Kuroo lifted his legs into his chest, waiting long enough for him to sit down before stretching them out and resting them over his lap. “Whose name is on the lease again?”

“I said shut up.” Oikawa pouted as he slumped against the backboard and tried to ignore the shit-eating grin that had appeared on Kuroo’s face.

With a chuckle that shook his chest, Kuroo relaxed into the couch again and lowered his gaze back to the book he was reading. “So, what fantasy did you whip up this time?”

“Why are you still talking?” he quickly asked despite feeling the blood rush to his head.

“Because you want to talk about him.” Oikawa honestly hated that Kuroo knew him well enough to perceive such things.

Oikawa’s pout deepened, if it were at all possible, and he leaned further into the cushions of the couch. He couldn’t really say anything he hadn’t said before. It wasn’t as if he had some fun facts about the florist up his sleeve. Kuroo peeked at him over the edge of his book before smiling wider and letting it rest against his chest as he lifted an arm behind his head.

“You know, there’s any easy fix to this.”

“I’m not fucking you.”

“You’re not my type, handsome. Anyway,” as Kuroo continued to speak, Oikawa shot him a deeply offended look at the first statement, “I mean, it’s just a thought, but have you ever considered, you know, _talking_ to him?”

Oikawa’s eyes widened a little at the question, wondering how to reply. “Why?”

“It pisses me off that you’re so stupid.” Kuroo snapped and sat up, though he kept his legs hooked over Oikawa’s lap.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Oikawa glared at him half-heartedly, “you’ve been eyeballing Aka-chan since you started working at the parlour. Why haven’t _you_ talked to _him_?”

“That’s different,” Kuroo quickly replied, “Akaashi is, like, intimidatingly gorgeous.”

“…Well, you’re not wrong.”

“And besides, we have talked. So that puts me one up on you, lover-boy.”

“I don’t think being scolded for dropping a whole box of ink cartridges counts.”

“You just don’t understand how modern romance works.”

The statement was so calmly said that Oikawa couldn’t stop the laugh that erupted in his chest. He reached up to shake the towel harder against his head, hoping not to catch Kuroo’s eye. He could feel those golden eyes on him, watching him intently. After a long moment of silence, he heard a sigh by his head and glanced to the side in time to see Kuroo flop back against the couch, his body bouncing a little as he settled back down.

“Tell you what, you go talk to the florist, and I’ll talk to Akaashi.” As Oikawa opened his mouth to protest, Kuroo interrupted him. “I mean it, I’ll…fuck, I dunno. I’ll try, so…you know, give it your best shot, or something like that.”

Oikawa looked away again, chewing on his lower lip. The thought of it alone seemed out of this world. He had been content just admiring the handsome florist from a distance, but at the same time, there was that curious feeling that bubbled in his chest, a desire to know more about him.

Groaning, he dragged the towel from his head to bury his face in it, his cheeks feeling warm at the otherwise simple concept. His stomach felt light, churning with butterflies, and he hoped Kuroo would be kind enough to ignore the blush creeping over his skin.

With a quick tap, Kuroo lifted his legs off Oikawa’s lap at his insistence, and watched as the other shuffled towards his bedroom with a muffled goodnight. Kuroo grinned at him for a moment before trying and failing to read again, instead dropping his book on his face and letting the pages stifle the whining noise he made after realising the deal he had wedged himself into.

Safe in his room, Oikawa fumbled to find a sweater in the dark before allowing himself to fall into bed with a soft thump. It was a childish little idea, both he and Kuroo agreeing to strike up a conversation with their crushes. He couldn’t even imagine how poorly it might end.

The florist came to mind once more as Oikawa began to drift off to sleep. He couldn’t help but wonder if he might be shown that bright smile.

The thought made him smile, and he rolled onto his side in an attempt to bury the growing grin in his pillow.

If nothing else, that would be enough.


End file.
